As the historic march flooded into
the old colonial central plaza, there was
a moment of great jubilation. From the
side streets flowed legions of people
from the feeder marchers, swelling the
ranks of the main body. As the rivers
of indigenous marchers merged, a tremendous roar filled the air as hundreds
of smiling faces greeted each other like
long lost brothers and sisters re-uniting—which of course in many respects,
they were.

Guatemala City had never seen anything like it: thousands of Indigenous
people from almost every country of the
Americas coming together, celebrating
their culture, and organizing resistance.
This is the grand finale march on Guatemala City to top off the successful
weeklong summit at nearby Iximché.
The grey, suffocating streets are filled for
once not with smog and gridlock, but
with a blaze of color from the forest of
rainbow colored flags and banners, and
the sound of drums and pipes and maracas and the multitude of voices each
with their own distinct language uniting to chant and sing together. Like the
march of an army of the dispossessed—the invisibles—reclaiming the city of
fear where once, not so long ago, they
were hunted down, disappeared, and
murdered with impunity by the state
security forces.

“After more than 500 years of oppression and domination,” proclaimed the
Bolivian speaker from the stage before
the cheering crowd, “they have not been
able to eliminate us. Here we are alive
and united with nature. Today we recuperate together our sovereignty...Our
task is to begin to govern ourselves.”

THE INTRIGUING
ANNALS OF IXIMCHÉ

This Third Continental Summit of
Indigenous Peoples and Nationalities of
Abya Yala (referring to the North and
South American continents in the Kuna
language) is being convened amidst the
ebullient upsurge in the fortunes of indigenous peoples across the Americas.
The flagship on the rising tide is Evo
Morales presidential victory in Bolivia.
He is not the first indigenous president elect in Latin America, but he is
the first indigenous and staunchly left
representative in office—as much part
of the indigenous revival as the Latin
American left turn captained by Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. And
this is the starting point of this summit—indigenous, left, and premised on
the theme “from resistance to power.”

“The indigenous people have decided to recuperate our identity, citizenship, natural resources, and culture,”
explained one representative from Ecuador, “and now we are setting our sights
on taking political power.”

This latest indigenous’ summit (the
first was held in Mexico 2000, followed
by Ecuador, 2004) is being convened in
a suitably prestigious location. The sacred Mayan site of Iximché, 60 miles
outside of Guatemala City is a place
with a both lauded and turbulent past.
The great city was once the capital seat
of the Kaqchikel people. Typical of the
rambunctious nature of indigenous history in general, Iximché —founded
in 1470—has a complicated past. The
Kaqchikel first collaborated with the
invading Spanish conquistadores led
by Pedro De Alvarado in 1524, against
their old rivals, the neighboring K’iche
states. Such a duplicitous collaboration soon came undone as they learned
the true nature of the avaricious Spaniards. The Kaqchikel rebelled, overrunning the Spanish garrison in 1527. The
Spaniards in turn came back in greater
numbers and with new local allies, eventually vanquishing the Katchikel.

This week Iximché is transformed
from a museum of the past and a case
study for academics to being a vibrant
theater for political discourse and cultural dynamism. Foremost on the minds
of the organizers is to cleanse the space
of the bad vibes left by President Bush,
who visited here two weeks earlier while
on his monumentally doomed Latin
American tour, despite widespread protest. In an elaborate cleansing ceremony—signifying ignominy for the US
President—the Mayan priests purify
the space to replace “the politics of war
with a politics of life, dignity, equality,
transparency, inclusive democracy, and
indigenous people’s unity founded on
a sustainable co-existence with Mother
Nature.”

In the shadow of the old ruins, huge
tents have been set up and a flurry of
activities is going on as workshops and
plenums take place in multiple locations. It is an autonomous space, controlled for the duration of the summit
by the people themselves, without the
presence of cops or authorities from the
state.

Among the hordes of colorfully
dressed delegates, the most prominent
are the enthusiastic 70-strong Bolivian
delegation, wearing distinctively beautiful textiles and the women in their sig-
nature bowler hats. The press is all over
them, snapping away photos, knowing
that this exotic indigenous eye-candy
sells.

But as Ecuadorian Blanca Chancosa
points out in her opening address – “We
are not just for folklore or adornment,
we want to be authors and constructors
(of our own destiny).”

So each day, after the pre-dawn spiritual ceremony, such cosmological immaterialism is overshadowed by hardcore anti-neoliberal political discourse.
The themes highlighted by the summit
and its numerous workshops and panels
include: land and territory, the depletion
of natural resources, the environment,
climate change, autonomy, migration,
and privatization. Concrete campaigns
and struggle against neo-liberalism,
militarization, the US war and the US
border wall were consolidated, as well
as specific campaigns such as promoting economic alternatives, legalization
of coca leaves and opening up Bolivia’s
access to the sea.

Bolivia’s foreign relations minister
David Choquehuanca sets the tone of
the discussions, quoting a Chotewanka
by saying, “Our minds are colonized,
but not our hearts. It is time to listen to
our hearts, because this is what builds
resistance.” Indigenous people, he said,
should look how to “live well,” to seek
a “culture of life” rather than the one dimensional development.

“Our world is not for sale,” continued Blanca Chancosa. “Bush is not welcome here. We want instead people who
support life. Yes to life! Imperialism and
capitalism have left us with a historical
debt and they owe us for this debt.”

Bush is not welcome, but the US
contingents are warmly received. Making the link between struggles north and
south—across the despised Rio Brava
wall—a representative from the Western Shoshone people said, “The indigenous here are facing the same kind of
issues we are facing in the North, and
face the same threat by the multi-national corporations such as mining and
environmental contamination. These
affect the traditional foundation of our
nations which is the land, the air, the
water, and spirituality.”

Linking the environmental and the
political is a constant underlying theme
here in this construction of a “culture
of life.” Capitalist neo-liberalism is
fueling environmental destruction, as
Miguel Palacin from Peruvian peasant
organization CONACAMI emphasizes: “They are trying to create economic blocs to impose treaties based on
the exploitation of nature. But now we
are becoming visible, because they are
messing with Mother Earth, and we are
organizing in order to respond. “

From the panels discussing Territory,
Natural Resources, and the Indigenous
People, Magali Rey Rosa, of the Guatemalan Madre Tierra organization has
the final word: “Mother Earth is not
bearing up any more with the kind of
use that the dominant civilization is imposing on its ecosystem. Development
is smothering life. If we continue with
this boss,” she said wittily, “our Earth
will not survive.”

THE ZAPATISTA NO-SHOW

The set up of the indigenous summit
is modeled on the World Social Forum,
both in method and style. There is the
usual elaborate registration process, accompanied by the ubiquitous paraphernalia—t-shirts, shoulder bags, glossy
brochures, and posters. Oxfam and other NGOs are footing the bill. Considering that the political formation of many
groups and organizations is old-school
Left, the methodology of the summit is
centralized and hierarchical.

There is little of the new methodology of the more anti-authoritarian elements of the movement—no horizontalidad or Zapatista-style assemblies.
Indeed the absence of a Zapatista delegation is telling, being so close to Chiapas. Chavez and Fidel are the non-indigenous inspirations here, not Marcos
or Flores Magon. Said one Guatemalan
delegate hailing from a group linked to
the ex-guerrilla URNG, “We think the
Zapatistas have ceased to have any significance.”

So the dominant political overture
is about constituting a new democratic
Left. The new Continental-wide radical indigenous resurgence is marked by
a division between the Zapatista model—anti-Capitalist, anti-electoral, and
focused on building grassroots autonomy—and the Bolivian model—anti-neo-liberal, constitutional, and seeking
power by uniting social movements in
a common electoral platform. While
many people in the attending the summit would probably position them in
varying degrees between the two poles,
the final documents and declarations
clearly assume the latter line.

And going down the constitutional
road in an effort to take political power
necessitates a strong central leadership. As Bladimir Painecura, Mapuche,
points out, “The maturity of the leaders
participating today and the solidity they
bring to the discussions [is the strongpoint of this movement]. As a result of
this maturity, the movements have been
consolidated and bring social transformation to the nation-state, as witnessed
in Bolivia. Indigenous peoples have advanced and have continued resisting, so
much so that they have arrived at power,
and are administering well.”

TECPAN : BUILDING A
CULTURE OF LIFE FROM
THE RUINS OF WAR

In a vast old rustic town hall, thousands of delegates join with the local
townspeople to celebrate the finale.
Although Tecpan is a racially evenly
mixed town, it’s noticeable that very
few of the mestizo population have
come out to celebrate with the indigenous. The wounds of Guatemala’s
30-year long brutal civil war linger in
rural towns like these despite the peace
accords signed over ten years ago. The
rebels were supported predominantly by
the indigenous poor and the state by the
Mestizo middle class. Tecpan was witness to guerrilla combat, army massacres, disappearances, and all the horrors
of counter-insurgency repression.

Like all encuentros of this kind,
much of the important work is done beyond the official panels and workshops.
At social events like this, personal and
political networking takes precedent.
And the unofficial stories emerge. For
example, why did Nobel Peace Prize
winner and prominent indigenous
rights spokeswoman Rigoberta Menchu not appear at the summit? She is
currently running as a presidential candidate in the upcoming Guatemalan
election. Although she has little chance
of winning, one would expect support
from this very summit considering she
is indigenous, of the Left, and running
for political power.

“She is a thought to be a pawn of
the Right Wing and the ruling class,” a
community leader from the Coban region tells me. “She doesn’t represent the
indigenous; she is interested in power
and has cut a deal with the Mestizos and
the rich. They tolerate her so as to show
the world that Guatemala has changed
and has stopped oppressing the indigenous. But it’s a lie...”

The time for speeches and presentations has arrived. I discover to my
horror that they are awarding all the
different delegations with plaques to
commemorate their participation in the
event. When the moment arrives to call
the Irish delegates to receive theirs, it
seems I am the only Irish person present to accept the award. The other two
Irish are nowhere to be seen. The truth
is that I am here somewhat accidentally—a gatecrasher of sorts—and certainly don’t merit any sort of accolade.
I had been traveling across Guatemala
on my way to cover a story in Nicaragua
when my Irish magazine, Island, sent an
email to say they had folded, and there
was no more Island to write for. Fortunately the photographer I was traveling
with noticed in the morning newspaper
that there was an indigenous summit
taking place nearby. So we came here
on a whim. Now I am approaching
the organizing committee who are all
smiling broadly to collect the plaque,
and I’m wondering what I can possibly
say. What have the Irish ever done to
help the indigenous of the Americas
throughout the ages? Should I quote
the infamous US General of Irish descent, Philip Sheridan—the racist mass
murderer who led the “Indian Wars” in
the 1860s—accredited with the charming ditty “The only good Indian is a
dead one”?

I am spared the ordeal as someone
snatches away the microphone to make
an important announcement. I scurry
away with the impressive ornament
feeling like a bit of a shyster. Later on,
over strong local hooch given out for
free for those delegates still going strong
by midnight, a garrulous Canadian delegate is telling me about the militant
Six Nations struggle in Ontario where
the indigenous resurgence is gaining
ground, and he re-quotes Sheridan.
“You see, buddy, the only good Indian is
a bad Indian!” Yo, high five—slap!

THE DECLARATION OF IXIMCHÉ:FROM RESISTANCE TO POWER

Back on the central streets of Guatemala City, the thousands of marching
delegates are joined by thousands of local indigenous peasant farmers from the
CNOC, CUC, and CONIC organiza-
tions. These are groups formed by war
victims, refugees and support base of
the 80s resistance, and the remnants of
the near genocidal state onslaught that
claimed more than 100,000 lives, mostly
rural indigenous. I remember being here
in this same city in the early 90s staying
at a human rights house, feeling petrified as police agents tailed us and death
threats were left on the phone. To be a
“bad Indian” in those days meant death.
Now, here they are—the rebel indigenous, re-emerging from the shadows
and re-claiming public space one more.

Amidst spiritual ceremony and music
and dance spectaculars, the celebrated
“Declaration of Iximché” is read out, to
“announce the continental resurgence of
the Pachacutic (the return) along with
the closure of Oxlajuj Baq’tun (long
count of 5,200 year), and as we approach
the door of the new Baq’tun, we journey
together to make Abya Yala a “land full
of life.” Then the declaration gets down
to the hard political specifics: against
the FTAA (Free Trade Agreement
for the Americas), against transgenics, against multinational mining and
resource extraction, against Bush’s war
and the US border wall and condemning the practices of the Inter American
Development Bank, the World Bank,
and similar global institutions who manipulate the indigenous. The document
stands firmly for indigenous peoples’
sovereignty, autonomy, and self-determination, ratifying historical rights
to stolen territories, and consolidating
unity between the different indigenous
groups.

To the somewhat mysterious and
haunting epitaph, "We Have Dreamt
Our Past and We Remember Our Future," the demonstration and the summit
concludes, and the multitude disperses
into the ominous dusk of the dangerous
and insecure city. The departing mood
is not triumphant but resilient and quietly optimistic. Despite everything—
500 years of colonization, dispossession,
poverty and migration—the resurgent
indigenous of the continent have survived and are looking to the future.